


Feels Like This Could Be Forever

by f-ing-ruthless-baz (my_mad_fatuation)



Series: Stay Till The A.M. [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Closeted Character, Drunken Kissing, Fights, Flashbacks, Friends to Enemies, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, POV Third Person Limited, Party, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 00:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_mad_fatuation/pseuds/f-ing-ruthless-baz
Summary: For the longest time, Simon was Baz’s only friend. He didn’t want other friends. He didn’t need anyone else when he had Simon.But then he no longer had Simon. And he resented Simon for that.------Tensions run high between Baz and Simon at the final summer party of the year before university starts and everyone drifts apart. But Baz and Simon drifted apart years ago. One little kiss didn't change that.





	Feels Like This Could Be Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I think this story needs a few words to preface it. First of all, yes, I did get inspiration for this fic from the song "A.M." by One Direction, but it's not a literal interpretation exactly. And it also kind of went in a different direction (lol) than what I originally intended, but I'm kind of digging it.
> 
> The setting for this one is a small (unspecified) town, where Baz and Simon grew up together. It's non-magical (I promise I will write a magical one some day), but their year of birth is the same, 1997, so most of this story takes place in the summer of 2015, with references to events from 2010-2014, and finishing up in 2016. In case that matters.
> 
> This story is pretty much nothing like any that I've written before--it's got very little comedy, fluff, or banter--so it feels a bit weird for me, but also I _really_ like it. And I don't usually like my writing very much. So that's something.
> 
> Also, from the initial concept and plot notes to the final edits, this took less than a day and a half to put together, so it's possible there are some errors, because I usually go over things more times than this. But I really need to let this one go now...
> 
> ***I know these are spoilers below but I think some people like to know ahead of time***
> 
> One of the ways the story veered off-course was that the ending is not a very happy one. Yet. I'm going to continue it into a short series so I can give our boys the happy ending they deserve, but for now it has to be this way. So if that's not your thing, you can skip this series. Alternatively, if you prefer the non-happy endings, you could just read this one and skip the sequels once I post them. Up to you.

_Well, if it isn’t Simon bloody Snow_ , Baz thought to himself. _Just my luck_.

Baz just so happened to look up at exact moment that the bronze-haired boy in question walked into the room, the way he always did: like he owned the place. Simon nodded to a few people on his way through to the kitchen, even though everyone wanted his attention.

 _Like he’s the centre of the fucking universe_.

Baz scowled at the drink in his hand for a minute before looking up again to see Simon still standing by the doorway to the kitchen. It seemed he’d stopped to greet Agatha, the hostess of this little soirée, and Baz glowered as he watched their interaction enviously. He knew they hadn’t been together for over a year now, of course—everyone at school knew when Simon and Agatha, power couple extraordinaire, broke up—but Baz was envious nonetheless. Envious that they’d had three years together and Baz had only had one night.

Just one night where he and Simon weren’t at each other’s throats. Just one night where he and Simon were able to talk and laugh and realize that maybe the animosity they’d held between them for years was no longer necessary. Just one night where he and Simon almost got along with one another.

Just one night.

Just one kiss.

***

It was after a party much like this one, at the start of the summer.

It wasn’t the first time Baz had been invited to a party with Simon in attendance—that had become quite par for the course over the past year, ever since Agatha started dating Baz’s cousin, Dev, and suddenly their respective friend circles overlapped—but it was the first time Simon had bothered _talking_ to Baz. Just talking; not arguing, not taunting, not picking a fight.

It was the first time they _just talked_ in years.

Things were different when they were children, though. They talked all the time then. They both grew up on the same side of town, their houses separated by a park where they would play together most days. For the longest time, Simon was Baz’s only friend. He didn’t want other friends. He didn’t need anyone else when he had Simon.

But then he no longer had Simon. And he resented Simon for that.

Baz could tell that they’d been starting to grow apart for a while before their ties were severed completely, but he still blamed it all on that summer. The summer after Simon’s thirteenth birthday.

Simon spent that entire summer visiting his father in California, and when he got back the week before school started, he was different. He was a bit taller than before, with slightly broader shoulders, and both his skin and his hair looked _sun-kissed_. He had fancy new trainers and an iPhone, before anyone else in their class did. But most of all he had more confidence than Baz had ever seen. Maybe it was more like arrogance, though.

Suddenly Baz was no longer good enough for Simon. Not after they returned to school and everyone could see just how much they didn’t belong together. How Baz was holding Simon back. As long as Simon was accommodating his introverted loser friend’s needs, he would never be able to climb the popularity ladder. Baz was dead weight. An anchor. And Simon needed to sail away.

Simon and Baz drifted apart slowly at first, however. They would still hang out in their neighbourhood on occasion when no one else was around, at least for the first year. Until Agatha came along. Sure, Agatha had technically been around the whole time—it was a small town, so everyone in their age-group was with the same classroom full of kids, year after year—but Baz had hardly noticed her until Simon started to take more notice of her. (He spent enough time watching Simon to know that Simon spent a lot of time watching her.)

It was the first time Baz and Simon fought. Not just childish rough-housing, but an actual brawl. On the school grounds, no less, so a teacher had to pull them apart, and they both got suspended—and Baz got an extra day of suspension because he started it. He didn’t even try to deny that. Simon thought that Baz started the fight because he was jealous that Simon had begun dating Agatha—which was technically true, but not for the reason Simon believed.

“What, do you _like_ _Agatha_ , or something?” Simon had said when Baz accosted him after school and started yelling at him for repeatedly bailing on on their plans in order to be with his new girlfriend. “I’m sorry she likes me better than you, but can you blame her? You’re kind of weird, Baz. And you’re moody. And, no offence, but you’re a bit funny-looking. I mean, what’s with your pointy hairline? Are you a vampire?”

So, while Baz took full responsibility for starting the fight when punishment was being doled out, inside he knew that Simon had really started it. Because his words felt like a knife to the gut. Though it was while before he figured out why they’d hurt so much.

Over the next year Baz made a small handful of new friends, some of whom stuck and some of whom did not. One of the ones who didn’t stick was the kid who spread the rumour around school that Baz was gay. He wasn’t wrong, of course. But it was private information; information that Baz had not even shared but that had been ripped from him when this _friend_ once used Baz’s laptop without permission. (He didn’t find anything _scandalous_ , though, just a folder full of images of Harry Styles that Baz had downloaded. A large folder.)

Although the fact was unverified, word of Baz being gay spread like wildfire around the school, and he started getting asked about it all the time. Sometimes it was bullying, sometimes it was ignorance, sometimes it was curiosity; it was all because there weren’t any other openly gay students—and who could blame them for not coming out, because who would ever want that amount of scrutiny on their life? Strictly speaking, Baz wasn’t even _openly_ gay, yet he still had to slog through a barrage of people who were unable to mind their own business. (He couldn’t wait to move out of this small fucking town.)

Except for Simon.

Simon never mentioned it. Baz had been afraid that Simon might use it torment him— _“You’re weird and moody and funny-looking and_ gay _, Baz, who could ever like you?_ ”—but he didn’t say anything about it. In fact, he hardly said anything at all to Baz for nearly two more years.

That was the second fight. Simon had recently broken up with Agatha—though they’d agreed to still be friends—when he decided to pick a fight with Baz, seemingly unprovoked.

The two of them got into a bit of a tussle over a football during their Phys Ed class one day, and they both ended up scraping their legs and getting sent inside early to clean up. They kept as far apart as possible in the locker room, to shower and change and clean their wounds. They didn’t even acknowledge each other’s existence until Simon started swearing, and Baz looked over to see what his problem was.

Simon, still shirtless, had one foot up on the bench with the leg of his school trousers pulled up past his calf as he bent forward to inspect the fresh blood that was dripping down his shin. He swore a couple more times before he looked up and saw Baz watching him. And he flipped out.

“What the _fuck_ are you looking at?” he snapped, his jaw set forward as he shot his former friend a threatening glare. “Don’t you fucking look at me!”

Baz didn’t even respond. He just rolled his eyes as he turned away and continued buttoning up his shirt. He didn’t even hear Simon come up behind him before he he felt a hard shove against his back, and whirled around to see Simon standing a foot away, fuming at him. “What do you want?” Baz said angrily.

“Why were you looking at me?” Simon asked, clenching his hands at his sides.

“Jesus, Snow, you were having a tantrum over a little scrape,” Baz scoffed as he looked down to finish the last couple buttons on his shirt. “You were bound to draw some attention.”

Suddenly Baz felt another shove, this time in the chest, and his back slammed into the lockers behind him. He didn’t even have time to react before Simon pushed him again, this time holding the front of Baz’s shirt in his fists and pinning him back against the lockers. “What the fuck is your problem, Snow?” Baz shouted at him, grabbing Simon’s wrists to try and pry his hands away. But Simon just pushed back harder.

“Do you _like_ looking at me? _Is that it?_ ”

Baz tried to wriggle out from Simon’s grasp but he was too strong. “Fuck off, Snow!”

Simon kept glowering at Baz for a few more seconds, seething, and gave one last firm shove before backing off. He didn’t look like he’d calmed down though. He looked like he was hoping for more of a fight. But Baz wasn’t interested. He just elbowed Simon out of the way so he could get his school bag and leave.

Baz didn’t want to interact with Simon at all, not anymore. Not since Simon stopped talking to him altogether a couple years ago. Not since he realized why he cared so much what Simon thought of him.

Of course, when Baz’s cousin started dating Simon’s girlfriend-turned-close-friend, avoiding Simon proved easier said than done. They wound up in many social situations together over the school year, including parties, day trips, movie nights—but luckily Simon didn’t seem to want to pick any more fights. At least not physical ones.

They’d argue over everything—or as some of their friends liked to say, they were _“always bickering”_ —though it grew less and less hostile over time that by the end of their last year at school together, it was more like banter.

And then it was something else. After a party much like this one.

***

A party much like this one, and yet this one was different. This was the final party—the last one before everyone left for uni and jobs and gap year travels—the last chance to see friends for months, or even longer. And the last chance for Baz to see Simon like this, in his element at a large social gathering. Baz intended to luxuriate in these last few stolen glimpses of Simon Snow before they might never see each other again. And he also intended to hate it every minute of it.

Simon laughed at something that Agatha said before turning to take a look around the room, where his eyes landed on Baz with a palpable _thud_. Baz knew that Simon couldn’t be all that thrilled to see him there, either. Not since the last party. Not after what happened.

His eyes didn’t stay on Baz for very long—just long enough for Baz to see them flicker with panic before going icy and looking away. Baz kept watching as Simon disappeared into the kitchen, and then returned his attention to the television in the far corner of the room where a few people were playing _Super Smash Bros_. It wasn’t that he was particularly interested in watching the game, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of making conversation with anyone right now.

He only came tonight so he could get drunk and glare at Simon one last time, and nothing more.

Not like last time, after a party much like this one.

***

It was the first party of the summer.

“Shove over.”

Baz was sitting on the second sofa in Agatha’s family room—technically it was a love seat—and had claimed the entire thing for himself by reclining against one of the arms and draping his legs over the other. He looked up from his phone when he heard Simon’s command and scowled. “Make me,” he sneered.

“You’re taking up two seats, Baz, come on,” Simon whined, which surprised Baz enough that he swung his legs down and shifted to the side to make room.

“You’re calling me _Baz_ , now?” he asked skeptically as Simon plopped himself into the seat.

“Would you prefer _Your Highness_?” He snickered and took a swig of whatever was in his cup.

“Snow, are you soused?”

“It’s a party, _Basilton_. We’re celebrating. We’ve graduated. Huz,”—he hiccuped—“zah.”

“Right,” Baz replied, picking up his own cup from the table in front of him and holding it up for a half-hearted _cheers_ in mid-air before taking a drink.

“I suppose I should congratulate you, by the way,” Simon continued, glancing sideways at Baz briefly. “For the speech and the top marks and all that.”

Baz smiled sarcastically. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. You deserve it; you’re the smartest person I know, Baz.”

“If you say so.” Baz scanned the room for a moment, which was the first time he realized that half the people who’d been in here had left already, and the other half had fallen asleep, all spread out over the armchair, the larger sofa, and the floor. Apparently it was already three in the morning, according to his phone. “I should probably head home,” he added before tipping back the rest of his drink.

“I suppose I should go, too,” said Simon, staring into his cup. He looked like he was contemplating whether or not he should finish the rest, but then he just went for it.

Baz hoisted himself out of his seat, a bit unsteadily since he had been sitting there for quite a while, right before Simon demanded assistance in getting up as well. “Are you just used to your minions doing your bidding all the time, Snow?” Baz said, though he pulled Simon up to his feet anyway.

“Yes,” Simon replied, trying to keep a straight face but breaking into laughter anyway. He had to brace himself on Baz’s shoulder when he took his first step, but then managed to keep his own balance for the rest of the way out of Agatha’s house.

Although Baz didn’t think that Simon had meant to walk home _with_ him, they were heading in the same direction anyway, and he figured it was probably best to keep an eye on Simon to make sure he didn’t trip on a crack in the pavement or heave in someone’s rose bushes. The cool air appeared to be helping, though, because Simon seemed a bit steadier and more alert once they were outside. And more chatty.

Simon couldn’t seem to shut up. But Baz didn’t really mind. He liked listening to Simon’s voice, especially when it wasn’t dripping with disdain for him. The walk to Simon’s house wasn’t very far, anyway. Under ten minutes. So Baz just let himself enjoy it while it lasted.

The quickest way to their houses from this direction was to go right through the park between them, and while Simon’s was towards one side and Baz’s was towards the other, they both walked right through the middle. Which was how Simon got distracted.

“Where are you going, Snow?” Baz called out when Simon started running towards the swing set, and while he was under no obligation to follow, he did anyway.

Simon was already standing on a swing seat with one foot, holding out his other leg behind himself in order to maintain his balance—which would have been difficult enough if he were sober—by the time Baz caught up to him. He soon gave up on standing and lowered himself into a seated position, shuffling his feet against the sand to start swinging gently.

Baz sat down in the swing next to him and began rocking back and forth without moving his feet, using his legs to keep himself tethered to the ground.

“Do you remember when we used to try and swing these all the way around?” Simon said as he stared up at the beam above their heads.

“You’re the one who wanted to go all the way around, Snow,” Baz said. “I was the one who pushed.”

“I feel like I managed to get pretty high at the time, but I think that if I saw it now I’d realize it wasn’t all that much.” Simon laughed and lowered his head. “Everything seemed so much bigger as a kid.”

“Yeah.”

Simon made his swings smaller to match up with Baz’s and looked over at him. “Why did you never want to go all the way around, Baz?”

“I knew it wasn’t possible,” Baz said with a shrug.

“Then why did you try to help me do it?”

Baz looked back at Simon while slowing his swing nearly to a stop. “I thought maybe you could do impossible things.”

Simon let out a sarcastic laugh. “Right, okay…”

“It’s true,” Baz replied, smiling down at his shoes in the hope that Simon wouldn’t be able to tell. “Besides, you kind of did do impossible things.”

“Such as?”

“Well, considering that we once spent literally an entire summer taking turns playing _Oblivion_ on my Xbox, it’s a damn near miracle that you actually have any friends at all,” he joked. “But flat out impossible that you would end up being the most popular guy in school. And dating the most popular girl…”

“We broke up, remember?” Simon pointed out, and Baz could hear a bit of resentment in his voice.

“Still. You dated her. You were at the top of the ladder, Snow,” Baz said with a little more bite. “You were at the top when you should have been at the bottom with me, because we grew up the same. We did everything the same.”

“But we’re not exactly the same, though, are we?”

“No. I guess we’re not.” Baz stared down as he swirled some of the sand with his foot. He looked up again, however, when Simon stood and started walking away. But he wasn’t heading home.

Baz watched as Simon went straight over to the climbing frame and began scaling the side of it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled to himself before getting up and following in Simon’s footsteps.

The climbing frame had a few different levels of bars to climb on and over, but Baz and Simon always used to climb right up to the top, and that was exactly what Simon was doing.

“Do you really think it’s is a good idea to do this while drunk?” Baz asked, gazing up at Simon while staying firmly on the ground next to the structure. “You’re probably going to break your ankle when you climb back down.”

“Maybe if you stay down there you can catch my fall, then,” Simon called back down, clearly trying to goad Baz into climbing up as well. And it worked.

Baz huffed in exasperation before grabbing onto the bars at the side of the climbing frame and pulling himself up onto it. By the time he reached the top, Simon was sitting on the small platform and letting his legs dangle over the side of the structure. He had to slide over a little to make room for Baz to sit next to him—it hadn’t been such an issue when they were kids, but now they were bigger and their arms bumped together because they had to sit close in order to fit on the platform.

“Well,” Baz said as he leaned forward a little to look down over the edge, “this is definitely one of those things that seemed bigger as a kid, isn’t it?”

“Hah, yeah,” Simon replied with a smile. “Or like those _big kids_ who wouldn’t let us come up if they were here, except they were only, like, nine years old, but we were six so they seemed so much older. And meaner.”

Baz chuckled a little, kicking his feet out alternately to feel the weight of them swinging—he always used to find that entertaining.

“I’m gonna miss this when I leave,” Simon said more seriously.

“Miss what?”

“I dunno. Sitting up here.”

“You haven’t sat up here in years, Snow.”

“I’m also gonna miss hanging out with you,” he added, quieter, just a hair above a whisper.

“You haven’t really hung out with me in years, either…” Baz grumbled, turning his head away slightly, but still speaking loud enough for Simon to hear him.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t miss it,” Simon replied. “It doesn’t mean I don’t already miss it…”

 _Then why did you stop?_ Baz wanted to ask. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything until Simon started laughing out loud. “What’s so funny?”

“I have no idea why, but I just remembered that time we collected those fruits—I don’t even know what they were, but they fell off the tree behind my house—and we found out that we could scrape them against rough surfaces, like concrete and stuff, and they would leave a mark,” Simon said, unable to contain his mirth. “So we took a bunch of them over to the school one day during summer and used them to draw on the walls of the building, over by the teacher’s parking lot.”

Baz frowned at him for a second before the memory came flooding back to him and he had to try and stifle laughter of his own. Unsuccessfully. “ _Holy shit_ , didn’t we—”

“Yep.”

“We wrote _‘Mr. Walters is a cocksucker’_ in huge letters—holy fucking shit, I forgot about that!”

“The best part was that you drew a cock, as well, just in case anyone had any doubt what it meant.” Simon cracked up again as Baz covered his face in his hands and groaned.

“Oh my god, how did we not get caught?” he added with an incredulous laugh. “We probably left a trail of those fruits from your house all the way there, too; it would have been so easy to track us down.”

Simon nudged Baz with his shoulder. “You were so fearless back then, Baz,” he teased.

“You think I’m fear _ful_ now?”

“No,” he said after examining Baz’s face for a moment. Simon’s smile slowly changed from mocking to wistful. “I think you’ve got less fear than anyone.”

“Why’s that?” Baz asked quietly, looking back down at his feet again.

“You’re not afraid to be yourself, I guess…”

Baz snorted. “That is both corny and vague, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Simon nudged his arm again and they both laughed.

“You know,” Baz added, “I like you better when you’re not around your friends.”

“Heh, so do I…”

Baz gave Simon a sideways glance before nudging him back, and Simon let out a laugh that was barely more than an exhale as he leaned his head into Baz’s shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep on me, Snow,” he said. “I don’t feel up to carrying you home.” He was trying to ignore the fact that Simon’s hair was so close to his face that he could smell it—apparently he still used the same shampoo as he did when he was a kid, which was oddly charming, and made Baz feel like he was back where he belonged…

“I’m not sleeping, Baz.”

Baz turned slightly to look in Simon’s direction and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Then what are you doing, Snow?”

Simon shrugged. “Thinking, I guess” he said. “Can’t we just cancel going off to uni and having careers and families and all that _life_ stuff and just stay here forever?”

“I don’t think that’s possible…” Baz said solemnly, and Simon finally lifted his head and looked at him.

“I thought you believed I could do impossible things,” Simon said with a wry smile.

Baz met Simon’s gaze but his expression remained serious. “I do.”

Simon seemed surprised by the sincerity in Baz’s answer, like he was anticipating some sort of witty repartee or insult, and Baz instantly regretted saying it. But before Baz could apologize for “making things weird,” Simon did the last thing that Baz ever expected him to do.

He kissed him.

It stunned Baz and for a second he was frozen on the spot, but he soon surrendered to the pull of Simon’s mouth, giving and taking in equal measure. _This could be forever_ , he thought. He could live in this moment forever and consider it a life well-spent.

Baz didn’t think about what he was doing—or what it meant—when he placed his hand on the side of Simon’s neck. He didn’t think about what he was doing when he stroked Simon’s cheek with his thumb. He didn’t think about what he was doing at all. He just did it. He had no concept of _then_ or _later_ , only _now_.

Simon surprised him again by pulling back suddenly, a look of panic taking over his face. “ _Shit_. What am I doing?”

“Si—”

“Fuck!” He pushed Baz’s hand away and started tugging on his own hair. “Why did I do that?”

“It’s okay, Simon—”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Baz frowned a little and raised his voice. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with you.”

“ _I just kissed a dude_ ,” Simon said, enunciating each syllable for effect, as if that would make his point.

“ _So?_ ” Baz said bitterly. “And you didn’t just kiss _a dude_ , by the way; you kissed _me_.”

“That’s even worse!”

“Why?” he demanded, practically shouting now.

Simon looked at him incredulously, like he was outraged by his attitude. “ _Because I’m not gay_ , _Baz!_ ”

“Fucking hell, Snow, it was just a kiss! It’s not like you took me up the ass.”

“I just— _Fuck_ , I have to get out of here,” Simon added, trying to figure out the best way to climb down from his current seat. He scaled down the side of the climbing frame as quickly as he could, and took off running towards his house when Baz jumped down after him.

“ _You’re a fucking coward, Simon Snow!_ ” he hollered after Simon, who didn’t even look back.

Simon never looked back.

***

Baz hadn’t seen Simon since the night Simon ran away from him at the park. Not that he’d tried to see him. He knew better than to try.

And it seemed like Simon was trying his best to avoid Baz, even at the end-of-summer party. He would leave whatever room he was in shortly after Baz entered it, which Baz found at once amusing and frustrating as hell. He wasn’t even sure what he would say to him if Simon ever deigned to speak to him again. Would Baz apologize for getting angry, since he realized it must be a confusing time for Simon, or would he yell at him some more for being a coward and a jerk?

Maybe it would be best for him not to find out…

Baz decided to cut his losses and head out earlier than usual, because being in such proximity to Simon only managed to stir up a mix of emotions that he didn’t really want to deal with in front of so many of his peers. The quickest way for him to get home from Agatha’s house was to go through the back garden, however, where Simon and a few of his _minions_ were sitting on patio furniture, drinking directly out of cans—Agatha wouldn’t allow such crass behaviour inside the house, but out on the patio was fair game—and as soon as Baz realized he was going to have to walk past Simon, he stopped in his tracks. It was only for a second, though, before he steeled himself and continued marching on through the yard, but it was long enough to catch Simon’s attention.

“Oh no, _Basil_ , are you leaving so soon?” he asked mockingly, waving his beer can in Baz’s direction to make sure everyone around him looked, too. “What ever are we going to do without you here sucking the fun out of everything?”

“That’s probably not all he sucks,” one of Simon’s friends added, snickering next to him.

Baz stopped again and glowered at Simon—not the friend—because he was laughing along with everyone else. Whatever Simon’s deal was, at least he’d never joined in with mocking Baz’s sexuality before. This was a new low, even for him. “You think that’s funny, Snow?” Baz asked menacingly.

Simon’s laughter dulled to an uncomfortable chuckle and he shifted in his seat a little. “It was just a joke,” he said with a shrug. “Besides…”

“Besides _what_?”

“Well… It’s true, isn’t it?”

The simmering rage inside Baz came to a full boil and stepped right up to Simon’s chair and stared him down. “You don’t know _shit_ about me, Snow,” he said, his voice growing louder, “so you can fuck right off!”

“I know enough,” Simon scoffed.

“Yeah? Well, I know enough about you, too, and there are some things I don’t think you’d like me sharing with your little _friends_ , would you?” Baz threatened.

Simon shot up out of his seat, sending the chair falling backwards behind him and got up in Baz’s face. “You don’t know me at all, so why don’t _you_ fuck right off instead.”

“Don’t worry,” Baz said, still loud enough for everyone else to hear, “I’m not going to tell anyone about the incident in the park.”

He could see Simon’s nostrils flare as his friends started asking questions about what happened in the park, so Baz gave him a condescending smirk.

“I told you to fuck off,” Simon growled, pushing Baz back a step, but he just chuckled, so Simon repeated himself louder and gave him a hard shove with his free arm. “Fuck off, _freak_!”

Baz stumbled backwards a little, but once he regained his balance he charged forward and gave Simon an even bigger, two-handed shove, causing some of his beer to spill out of the can he was holding when he staggered. He didn’t even seem to care about the beer, though, because he just threw the can away and went flying towards Baz, tackling him to the ground. They grappled with each other, each trying to gain the upper hand, as other party-goers got up to watch, though a couple of them intervened almost immediately before any real damage could be done.

They were held back from each other until they settled down enough not to attack each other again. But Baz didn’t want to stay for round two anyway, so he stormed off home as soon as he was released. He kept up his pace until he reached the park near his house, where he slowed to a regular walking speed so he wouldn’t be completely winded by the time he got there. That would definitely make his father ask questions, such as whether or not Baz had gotten into a fight.

He ended up taking a breather near a large tree at the park entrance just to compose himself, but he heard someone calling his name just as he was about to keep going. He looked up and saw Simon charging after him, so he turned and continued towards his house, picking up speed again.

“Baz!” he heard Simon shout angrily after him. “I need to talk to you!”

Baz ignored him and kept walking, only to be startled moments later when Simon ran up and grabbed the back of his shoulders to stop him, turning him and shoving him back against a nearby tree.

“How dare you try to fucking blackmail me, Baz!” Simon said angrily as he pressed his elbow and forearm across Baz’s collarbones to keep him restrained against the tree.

“For fuck’s sake, Snow!” he croaked, trying to push Simon off of him. “I’m not going to tell anyone that you’re—”

Simon shoved Baz into the tree again, and he coughed. “That I’m _what_ , exactly?”

“That you’re a _fucking coward_ ,” Baz told him, finally getting some leverage on Simon’s arms, enough to hold them off his chest but not enough for him to get away.

“You don’t know anything, Baz!” Simon managed to twist his arms out of Baz’s grasp and grabbed onto his collar with both hands, nearly choking him.

Baz held onto Simon's wrists and tried to pry his arms away, but all he could manage was holding off some of the pressure so he could properly breathe. He groaned and strained for a bit before loosening his grip in defeat. The park was empty by this time of night, and it was too dark for anyone walking along the road to see them amongst the trees. Nobody was coming to stop them, and Baz knew it. And he couldn’t win.

“Fuck, Snow,” he said hoarsely. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to stay the fuck away from me!” Simon yelled.

“ _You_ came after _me_!”

“I don’t just mean tonight,” he added, decreasing the volume of his voice but not the anger. “I mean _forever_.”

Baz twisted and wrenched at Simon’s wrists again, and this time they gave way slightly. But he still felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like he was fourteen and losing his best friend all over again. “ _Why?_ ” he said in a choked-off voice; he was nearly crying. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“ _Because!_ ” Simon started pushing back against Baz so hard that his arms were shaking. Then, all of a sudden, he let his arms go slack and crumpled forward, pressing his forehead into Baz’s sternum while loosely holding onto his collar with both hands. “I can’t stand you, Baz,” he said quietly.

Baz still had his hands around Simon’s wrists, and even though he no longer needed to fight him off, he kept a gentle hold on them while Simon wept against his chest. Soon Simon lifted his head again and lowered it onto Baz’s shoulder as he slid his arms around Baz’s neck, hugging him tightly, like Baz was the only thing in the world that could keep him afloat right now. It took Baz a second to figure out that he wasn’t being attacked, but then let his arms wrap around Simon’s back, even though he knew it was a bad idea.

He tried to convince himself, in his mind, that he was just comforting a friend—except Simon Snow was not his friend. But he couldn’t admit the truth to himself; the truth made him feel weak. Powerless. Hopeless.

The truth was that Baz was hopelessly in love with Simon. And Simon couldn’t stand him.

“Simon,” Baz said softly, “will you please tell me what’s going on?”

Simon just shook his head against Baz’s shoulder.

“Why can’t you tell me? I’m not going to judge you.”

“I fucked it up,” Simon replied, muffled against Baz’s shoulder. “I fucked it all up.”

“What did you fuck up?” Baz whispered, lowering his head.

Simon slowly pushed himself back from Baz and looked at him with watery eyes, hands resting on his shoulders. “Everything,” he said, his voice trembling. He looked like he was about to cry again, but instead clenched his jaw and glared at Baz with fresh hatred before forcing him back against the tree again. “I fucked up _everything_ , Baz!” he added, louder, angrier—but Baz wasn’t sure if Simon was angry at him or at himself.

Baz let his arms hang limp at his sides while his shoulders were still pinned to the tree behind him, but Simon didn’t seem too pleased by that. He grabbed the front of Baz’s shirt and pulled him away from the tree just so that he could slam him against it again, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

“Why are you just standing there?” he shouted at Baz.

“What do you want me to do?” Baz didn’t sound angry though, just tired.

“ _Fight me!_ ”

“I don’t want to fight you, Simon.”

“Don’t call me that!” Simon jerked Baz forward by the shirt again and then back into the tree. “Just fight me, Baz! _Do something!_ ”

Baz gasped for air when he hit the tree once more, then tilted his head up towards the sky to try and hide the tears that were coming. “I don’t want to fight you!”

“Then what _do_ you want?” Simon asked, shouting even louder than before. “This is all we get, Baz!”

Baz grabbed onto Simon’s wrists again as a reflex when his hands started closing in towards Baz’s neck. “What are you talking about?” he cried, straining his neck back.

“ _This!_ This is it! There’s nothing else for us!”

Baz coughed and whimpered as he clawed at Simon’s arms.

“ _Fucking fight me!_ ” Simon screamed again, his grip tightening around Baz’s neck.

It was the last thing Baz wanted to do, but he didn’t see a choice anymore. He thought that Simon was going to kill him. So he struggled and pushed back harder, even trying to jab Simon with his knee to get him to back off. Which worked a little. And then it didn’t.

After Baz managed to get him in the thigh, Simon slammed his whole body into Baz’s so that he wouldn’t be able to kick out his legs anymore. Baz kept trying to force Simon away, with his hands, his elbows, even pushing his abdomen forward in an attempt to make enough of a space between Simon and the tree for him to slip out. But Simon pushed him back. So Baz pushed forward. And Simon pushed back. Again. And again. Pushing. Grappling. Grinding.

Baz wasn’t really sure how it happened, or why. But when Simon kissed him for a second time in his life, he didn’t question it. It was different from the last one, though. It didn’t feel like Simon, in a brief moment of lost sanity, wanted Baz; it felt like he _needed_ Baz. He was taking and taking, like he’d never had a full meal in his life, and Baz was willing to give it to him. Baz was willing to give him anything.

Simon pulled at Baz’s mouth with his, still holding Baz’s collar in his fists, though he wasn’t trying to strangle him anymore. He was no longer trying to rid Baz of his breath so much as he was trying to steal it from him. And Baz wanted him to have it, to have everything. He could die kissing Simon Snow. He’d allow it. At least that way it would feel like forever; after this there would be nothing left anyway.

_This is all we get._

Baz just kept kissing Simon, giving what he thought Simon wanted, giving what he thought Simon needed—connection. Simon needed to know that he wasn’t alone. Simon needed to know that someone loved him.

They continued pushing and grappling and grinding against each other, just chasing feelings instead of analyzing them. There’d be plenty of time for Baz to analyze and over-analyze all of this later. Once he was dead. But right now this was all he could think about. _Simon_.

Simon’s lips. Simon’s tongue. Simon’s hands.

Simon’s erection pressing against him.

Now that was nearly all Baz could think about, especially when Simon grabbed one of Baz’s hands and urged it downward. Baz had never touched anyone like that before—he’d never even kissed anyone besides Simon, technically—so it was at once a frightening and exhilarating experience for him.

“Baz—” Simon said with a quiet groan as soon as Baz started rubbing his hand over the front of Simon’s jeans, but Baz didn’t stop. It didn’t seem like Simon wanted him to.

Baz knew this wasn’t going to make Simon love him back. He just wanted to make his last memory with Simon into something better. No more fighting, just this.

_This is all we get._

This was all Baz was ever going to get with Simon, but he wanted Simon to know. To know that Baz never stopped caring for him. That all Baz ever really wanted was to make Simon happy, and it killed him a little every day that he couldn’t. But now he could, just for a moment, and then Simon might know.

_I love you, Simon. I love you, I love you, I love you—_

“Simon,” Baz said faintly when Simon jerked backwards a little, but Simon just pushed himself away from Baz as quickly as he could. “Simon, what’s—”

“Shit,” Simon muttered breathily, to himself more than anything, and by the look of shock on his face, Baz could tell what had happened.

“It’s okay, Si—”

Simon shoved Baz with both hands again and then staggered backwards more to get some distance between them. He stared at Baz for a second, panic in his eyes, and took another step back before turning around and running towards his house.

Baz just watched him run away; he didn’t bother calling after him this time. He knew Simon wouldn’t look back.

Simon never looked back.

***

Baz never expected to see Simon again before leaving for university in London. And he didn’t see him. Baz also never expected to see Simon when he was home for Christmas. He didn’t see him then, either.

But he still looked. Every time he left his house, every time he crossed through the park, every time he visited a friend, went out for a drink, walked over to the Tesco Express—he was always looking for a certain face. He wished he wasn’t. He wished he could just stop thinking about Simon altogether.

While he never quite managed to do that, he did make some progress during the Spring term. So much so that he didn’t even try to look for Simon when he returned home for the summer. There was no point; all that Simon could do now was ruin Baz’s life. Which had been fine when Baz didn’t care about his own life, but things were different now. He didn’t want to die, and he certainly didn’t want Simon Snow to kill him.

For that reason, Baz tensed up with fear when he saw Simon walking across the park towards him this evening. He considered just getting up and walking away, but Simon was already close by the time Baz noticed him and Baz would never be able to outrun him. He was too checked out to run anyway.

Simon paused briefly in front of the bench where Baz was sitting before taking a seat at the far end. “What brings you to this fine spot on such an evening?” he asked in a playful tone.

“Had to get out of the house,” Baz replied seriously. He wasn’t in the mood to chat pleasantly, but he was also too tired for a snarky response. “Had another little _disagreement_ with my father.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Simon looked down at his shoes, like he was a bit embarrassed for trying to make light of things. “What was it this time?”

“I wanted my boyfriend to come visit some time during the summer,” Baz said, bracing himself slightly. It was sort of the first time he’d told Simon that he was gay, at least with words. He tried to gauge Simon’s reaction, but his expression remained inscrutable. “My father didn’t like that idea too much.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Simon said with a sympathetic nod as he kept staring down at the ground.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So…” he added after they’d gone quiet for a minute. “You’ve got a boyfriend?”

“Is that shocking, Snow?” Baz said, though he didn’t have the energy to put much bite into his words. “You must think it’s impossible that anyone could ever like my pointy, vampire hairline, is that it?”

Simon chuckled a little, which surprised Baz. “Sorry, I—I forgot about that one,” Simon said, trying to rein in his mirth. “That was pretty harsh of me, wasn’t it?”

“And yet I survived,” Baz said dryly.

“Honestly, I was a bit jealous.”

“Jealous of what?”

“I thought you were going to steal Agatha away from me,” Simon replied. “I knew she’d had a _thing_ for you in primary school. You were always the better-looking one.”

Baz snorted involuntarily. “Maybe until you had your little summer _glow up_ , I guess.”

“What?” Simon turned to Baz with a look of confusion mixed with amusement.

“When you were thirteen,” Baz said. “You came back from California and you were, like, _hot_ now. Well, for a thirteen-year-old boy, at least.”

“You thought I was hot?”

Baz dropped his head wearily and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m _queer_ , Snow, remember?”

“No, I just mean—I felt like such a freak that year,” Simon explained.

“You felt like a freak?” Baz asked as he turned his head to frown at Simon.

“I was always bumping into stuff because I didn’t know where my arms ended,” he laughed. “That year was all growth spurts and hormones and praying for my voice not to crack whenever I had to do a class presentation.”

Baz laughed a bit, too. “Poor Gareth…”

“Yeah, I definitely felt bad for him that day,” Simon said, but his laughter soon died down. “Anyway… You were still always the better-looking one.”

“If that were true, then why wasn’t I Mr. Popular instead?” Baz said jokingly.

“Did you actually want to be?” Simon asked, giving him a serious look.

“No.”

Simon raised his eyebrows and shrugged, because Baz had just answered his own question.

“I was not the better-looking one, though,” Baz said, shaking his head.

Simon just chuckled a little more before a quiet stillness descended upon the two of them for several minutes. “I just, um… I want to say I’m sorry, Baz,” he added, glancing over at Baz.

“Sorry for what?” Baz asked with his jaw set forward, looking down at his shoes again.

Simon looked back down as well. “I dunno… Everything.”

“Blanket apologies aren’t real apologies, Snow,” Baz scoffed.

“Well, if I apologized for every single thing individually, we’d be stuck sitting here forever,” Simon said irritatedly.

“Fair point.”

“Exactly—”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try, though,” Baz cut in.

“Baz…” Simon began, his voice softer now, like he was tired, too. “Do you actually want me to sit here and list all the shitty things I’ve done to you? Is that how you want to remember the last bit of time we’ll ever spend together?”

“Why, are you dying?” Baz said in such a flippant manner that he was really going to hate himself if that ended up being the case.

“I’m heading back to California tomorrow,” Simon said solemnly. “Moving there, actually.”

“Wait, what? You’re _moving to California_?” Baz asked in disbelief. “Why?”

Simon still wasn’t looking at him. “I met someone while I was visiting my father at Christmas,” he said. “We’ve been doing the long-distance thing since then, but she thinks I’d like it better living over there, anyway.”

Baz had to restrain himself from laughing out loud when Simon said _she_. Not because it was a shock so much; Baz just found it hilarious that he’d actually thought, for a second, that Simon might say a different pronoun. But of course he wouldn’t.

_Because he’s a fucking coward._

It wasn’t even that Baz thought Simon was _definitely_ gay, but he certainly wasn’t completely _straight_ either. And Baz knew that as long as Simon had the option to pretend to be, he would.

“Do _you_ think you’d like it better living over there?” Baz asked him.

Simon finally looked back at Baz. “Yes,” he said sadly.

Baz nodded a little and lowered his gaze to the ground again. “This will probably be my last summer here, too,” he said. “I’m going to stay in London from now on, I think. Coming back here is just… I hate it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So, I guess this is it, then” Baz added. _This is all we get._

“I guess…”

“I should probably head back inside, anyway…” he said before rising from his seat.

“Baz,” Simon said when he stood and reached for Baz’s arm to keep him from leaving just yet. “Are you gonna say goodbye?”

Baz slowly turned to face him. “I don’t know if I can, Simon,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, since looking into his former friend’s blue eyes made him want to cry, knowing it would be the last time.

“I can’t let you leave until you say goodbye,” Simon added, firming his grasp. He stared back at Baz as his chin started to wobble, like he was struggling to keep it together, too, and then pulled Baz in for a hug. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Baz hesitated to hug back for a moment, but he soon wrapped his arms around Simon and held him as tightly as he could. He nodded his head in response, because he couldn’t trust himself to speak.

Simon held on even tighter. “You were the best friend I ever had, Baz,” he added. “I always loved you. More than anyone.”

Baz still couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He just wanted to etch this moment into his brain so he could make it last forever, in his mind. He would forever be holding Simon Snow; Simon Snow who loved him, and even though it was not the same way Baz loved Simon, it was enough.

But he also needed to move on. It was time. So he gave one last squeeze of his arms and pulled away. “Goodbye, Simon,” he said, though he didn’t stick around to wait for Simon to say anything in return. He just turned and started walking home.

“Goodbye, Baz,” Simon replied, his voice cracked with tears, but Baz kept walking. He didn’t look back.

Baz never looked back.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.
> 
> This was the first time I ever cried while writing a story. Literally cried. So I'm sorry (not sorry) if it made you cry too.  
> But like I said, there is more coming for these two, and it will get better. Eventually. I think. I hope.
> 
> Also, I'm going to be super obnoxious and mention that I have a tumblr now for my _Carry On_ shenanigans, [@f-ing-ruthless-baz](https://f-ing-ruthless-baz.tumblr.com), so feel free to befriend me over there because I am so lonely.


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